


returned

by desmercia



Category: Banana Bus Squad
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Alternate Universe - Grand Theft Auto Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-22 02:59:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13754838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/desmercia/pseuds/desmercia
Summary: "That's over now," Evan reminded himself, starting the monotonous mantra that kept him sane. "Brock is here, he's safe, Tyler is here, he's safe."





	returned

**Author's Note:**

> this is intended to be a scene from a larger fic, but i don't know if it will ever be done, so i figured i'd take a few scenes and throw them up as oneshots.

"Hey."

Evan turned, watching Brock step through the door. The bruise around his left eye had grown darker since the last time Evan saw him; angry reds and blues bleeding into blacks and purples. Brock moved stiffly, right hand clasped gently against his side. The stubble across his jaw made him look older, tired. Evan stepped forward to guide him to the couch.

"You should be asleep," He murmured, mouth close to Brock's ear, as they settled into the couch; Brock stretching his legs out and leaning back, while Evan sat stiffly.

Brock chuckled. It sounded strained.

"I can't sleep." Brock muttered after a few moments passed. His lips quirked into a wry smile. "Ty keeps tossing and turning. Makes my ribs hurt."

"Need painkillers?"

"Nah, I'll be good til morning. They make me feel woozy anyway."

Brock tipped his head back, slowly, so that his head rested against the top of the couch. Evan watched him, shook his head.  
"Sleep like that and you'll hurt your neck even more."

Brock's eyes fluttered shut. "Oh well."

"Brock," Evan exhaled. "Don't be dumb. You gotta rest. Take Lui's bed."

Brock opened his eyes, staring up at the ceiling. He blinked, long and slow. "I don't want to be alone."

Evan sighed, and rested his head against Brock's shoulder. Brock turned his head, hissing slightly, and pressed his cheek to Evan's hair. The angle was all kinds of awkward, and Evan itched to move, but he held still and reached out to grab Brock's hand. Brock had always been warm, heat radiating off his skin in waves, while Evan could never shake the chill. Brock felt almost feverishly hot, but he was alive; blood flowing, lungs breathing, and here. That was the most important part; he was here, within reach, not miles away in a basement.

Evan held on tightly, rubbing his thumb over the back of Brock's hand. The pad of his thumb caught against the raised skin of a scabbing cut. Brock's hands and wrists were covered in them, the remains of rope burn. Ryan said there would be minimal scarring, but the wounds were a gross contrast against Brock's perfectly smooth skin.

They were also a terrible reminder of what he'd been through.

"We're not gonna leave you, Brock." Evan whispered, voice sounding hoarse as his eyes burned with tears. "Not ever."

"I know," Brock breathed.

The room was quiet for a while, just the sound of their breathing; Evan's deliberately slow—trying to release the fear that had been gripping him all week—and Brock's a little slower, deeper, at times hitched as his ribs flared with pain.

The computer had gone dark, now the only light was from the digital clock, the numbers a bright red against the black of night. As Evan looked around, the shadows in the room drew his eyes. Paranoia crept closer; shadows bending, twisting, as ominous faceless figures appeared at the corner of his eye. He could never meet their murky eyes, but they lingered, waiting to pounce. His gun, Evan thought quickly, he hadn't brought his gun. He couldn't protect Brock, he couldn't lose—

"I love you."

Evan jolted, surprised and alarmed as the silence was shattered with a whisper, and he was dragged back from panic. He could feel Brock shifting, no doubt turning to face Evan.

"I love you too, Brock. Don't ever forget that."

Brock hummed. "Thank you for finding me."

Evan frowned. "Of course, we couldn't just let you go. Not like that."

"I know."

"C'mon, I'll move one of the single beds into our room. Ty will have a fit if he wakes up and you're not with us."

"Okay," Brock mumbled, closing his eyes. His smiled. "I'd ask you to carry me, but that might break you."

Evan snorted. "I can carry you. It would hurt you though."

"Another time, then."

"Deal." Evan smiled. "When all of this is over, I promise I'll carry you to bed whenever you want."

"You could just drop me on top of Tyler. I'd crush him."

"He'd kill us both."

Brock's laughter was soft and his smile so small. Evan was hit by just how much he'd missed Brock. How close they'd been to losing him. He curled in closer to Brock's warmth, and pressed his face against the fabric of his freshly worn shirt. If Brock could feel the tears soaking in, or feel the tremor of Evan's shoulders, he didn't mention it.

They waited in the dark, just holding each other, until the clock flicked over midnight. Then they stumbled to their bedroom, where Tyler was sleeping soundly.

How he managed it, Evan didn't know. But he was glad that Tyler was sleeping again, instead of pacing the library floor and cursing endlessly. The past week had been rough on all three of them.

_That's over now_ , Evan reminded himself, starting the monotonous mantra that kept him sane.  _Brock is here, he's safe, Tyler is here, he's safe._

Evan helped Brock into bed, and his hand lingered against his partner's chest, just to feel his heart beating.

_We're okay._


End file.
